76. Help the stranger put her underwear back on, because please, we can still be ladylike.

77. Invent time travel.

78. Travel back in time and ask Genghis Khan, “what’s with the sourpus, cutie-patootie?”

79. See a really big rock concert. Travel to Burning Man and see a really big cock concert.

80. Travel back in a time and inform Shakespeare that his wording, while pleasing to the ear, is somewhat antiquated and help him “modern it up”. Teach Shakespeare that the word fuckspigot means devil and snotgoblin means angel. Better: “Love is a fuckspigot. There is no evil snotgoblin like love.”

81. Solicit a telephone solicitor.

82. Give my dentist a filling. With my foot.

83. Give my shrink a lecture on not judging a book by its cover, or by what it says inside, or by how the clowns make her feel, because everyone hates clowns, its perfectly sane to hate clowns and also: could I have my big floppy shoes back?

84. Learn to juggle three balls. Molest a three-balled juggler.

85. Breed a dingo and a wombat and call the resulting offspring a dingbat.

86. Canoe across Canada (the prairies should be neat!).

87. Learn to play the harmonica. In a supermax prison.

88. Call my shrink and tell him how the pure, aching strains of the harmonica resonates with me in the darkness that is solitary confinement, and how that makes me feel inside.

89. Buy my parole officer a really decent fruitcake.

90. Get a picture of a ghost in a graveyard.

91. Buy new pants.

92. Commit to a weekend long vow of silence.

93. Rename all the people who were made so happy by #92 “les dickwads”.

94. Write a silent off-broadway musical called “les dickwads” (specifically, a ballet with people dressed in latex suits. Gonna be a big, big hit.)

95. Eat jellied eel in London. Simulataneously cry and vomit on a streetcorner in London.

96. Become a conjoined twin with my sister by stapling our bodies together at the abdomen. Develop “psychic twin bond” so I know exactly when she’s thinking stuff like “ow ow ow ow!” and “omg I’m going to kill you, bitch!”

97. Take filthy, naked pictures to sell to random porno magazine.

98. Apologize to neighbours for taking filthy, naked pictures of them covertly. And selling them. Again.

99. Rename an already-named star. Have genie-butler Morton M. Piddlepants II rename another star the exact same name. Roll 20 sided die to see who wins. Wash, rinse, repeat for the rest of the stars in the universe until Mr. Piddlepants II cries and quits.

100. Hire Morton M. Piddlepants the Third (aka Jude Law) and bring him up to speed on the conditions of his continued employment as my butler. Hand him fog machine, rollerblades, the Joy of Cooking, a guide to the robopocalypse and the script to my off-broadway play.

(Editor’s Note: AJ Aalto is probably for sale. Please contact Morton M. Piddlepants the Third–also known as Bitey McFrustrated–for pricing and information regarding shipping and handling procedures for this product.)

7 Responses to 100 Things I Wanna Do Before You Die (So I Can Still Brag To Ya)

Superb blog! Are you experiencing any recommendations for aspiring writers?
I’m hoping to get started on my blog soon but I’m a little bit lost on everything.
Could you propose starting with a totally free
platform like WordPress or get a paid option? There are so many choices
available that I’m completely overwhelmed .. Any recommendations?
Kudos!

#77 check! Or wait… does my fictional life count? Well of course it does, otherwise I’d have no life. Umm…

“Make sweet, sweet love to a Biker Gang.” “Fart in an elevator and take credit for it.” “Spend 27 weeks in a coma.”

Uhh, AJ? Whatever you’re on right now, I’d like to be on it too. So I’m expecting express devilvery t-day, you hear? Send the butler and buy him a camel if you have to. And in case you’re wondering, I only made it through number 77. Somewhere in the rest is probably the missing link. I might have to carry on later.